Like This
by radiany
Summary: [for Sailor Comet, obviously] In the schoolyard: Anzu dances by herself and Yuugi’s there to watch. YuugiAnzu, if you squint real hard.


**dedication **sailor comet. sam. etc.

**why **for spoils and dancer and satisfactory. you are a horrible, horrible, person :D and amusing, can't forget that.

**labels **het hints; schoolyard!fic; blast from the past!fic; OOC; drabble; oneshot; pg

**.b.**

idea came from the poem "lone stars" from you remind me of you by eireann corrigan. and maybe a belated "i have to get used to the idea" of yugioh: next generation to myself…

**Like This**

They met on New York.

Not _in_ New York, but rather the bright purple section of the enormous map painted all across the schoolyard.

She'd worn pink ribbons in her hair – twisted around and round in falling curls. But that wasn't the first thing he'd noticed.

He'd been sitting on some part of Japan, shuffling a deck of playing cards, and had looked up to see her dancing, alone, on America.

It was simple and complicated – simple because she was still only a child, and complicated because she took ballet lessons every day after school at four. Her hair, despite being tied up, was flying into her face, but she was grinning – as if it didn't matter.

And then she was spinning.

Yuugi liked spinning. It was easier to understand. Yuugi did not, however, like socializing. It was far too confusing to uphold.

So it must've been the former that caused him to move forward – and the latter that made him stop and sit down on the Atlantic Ocean. But he didn't stop watching.

Cut the cards, shuffle, bridge, repeat.

Step right, step left, center, spin, rewind.

And perhaps it was purely coincidence and good humor that caused Anzu to look over, swaying from the added adrenaline and mirth. A smile had curled the ends of her lips and she'd reached out with one hand while balancing with the other.

"Want to try?"

Yuugi could've declined the offer, because it was an invitation and not a command.

Yet, almost shyly, the cards had fallen into a plastic case, and a muffled click had been heard as the lid closed. "Will…you show me…how?"

Maybe she had laughed, he didn't remember, as she danced around in circles – and maybe it was ballet, and maybe it was not. It could've been a waltz or a tango or perhaps neither. Yuugi did not know much about dancing and Anzu did, so he said nothing and watched her twirl off toward California.

It would be after she stopped to catch her breath when they would play Goldfish and when Anzu would switch her hand into numerical order every time she drew cards and when she would point out that 'you don't need lessons to learn how to dance.' Dance good, maybe, but just to dance?

She would shake her head in an imitation of sorrow and Yuugi would stifle a laugh and let out a smile, winning every time because Anzu said it wasn't right to throw the game.

And it would be later when Anzu would gaze distantly across the playground and say that when she grew up, she'd dance in America. Yuugi wouldn't know what to say other than 'good luck' without feeling sorry for himself, because this was something completely different.

Yuugi would reshuffle the deck as the bell rang and wonder if it had been wrong to join, because everything had seemed so easy when he could sit on the outside instead of watching from the inside and see everyone else staring in.

But when Anzu smiled and brushed off her skirt, she turned briefly to tell him they'd be late if he didn't hurry along and Yuugi paused and considered the possibility of this being a good thing. As they went, he had searched his deck and let a card fall behind them.

Anzu hadn't said a word, expressing nothing but a quiet understanding and at that moment, Yuugi felt as if the entire world could've been made of plastic, rolling out from under their feet and color-coding a pattern for them to conquer.

**fin.**

**.a.**

started july 18th, 2004. finished august 5th, 2004.

holy shit. i do not know how much time i took on this…thing. i just kept abandoning it over and over again. –dies- but I rather like it (if you ignore their screwed up personas). now the question is: do you?

******4:33 pm******


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